Chapter 2
Two
Tessa
“Whatever this is, make it quick,” I said. “I still need to catch the train,” I said hastily as I glanced at my watch. I have so much to do tomorrow. I couldn’t stay here all night, and Colin would never offer to drive me home.
Colin shut the patio door behind us, and the noise of his parents’ dinner party dulled to a muffled, distant hum. It was as if someone threw a pillow over the entire house, muting every voice and smothering each burst of laughter until all that remained was the faint clink of cutlery and glassware.
“Tessa,” he said, his voice low and careful. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
A cold knot pulled tight behind my ribs. Not panic. Dread. Familiar, grainy dread that scraped my chest from the inside out.
“Colin,” I whispered, which only made him smile, and that hadn’t been my intention when I said it.
He reached into his pocket with practiced certainty, the kind of motion a man rehearsed in front of a mirror to make sure he looked perfect while doing this. The air around us thickened as if it knew what was coming.
“Don’t,” I said hastily, hoping that would be enough to stop this before he embarrassed himself. He froze for a moment, his hand still deep in his pocket, his eyes flicking to mine with a startled edge. Colin hated being off-balance.
He stood near the short steps that led to the paved path; the patio lights cast a dingy glow over him. His pale blue button-down clung damply to his back and underarms, the shirt he bragged about buying from some expensive menswear place.
Colin wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t handsome either. His features never quite resolved into anything worth remembering. He was a man who looked better surrounded by wealth. Without props, the plainness showed.
His carefully styled hair wilted in the humidity, flattening against his head, and his clean-shaven jaw looked almost raw in the porch light, like he went over it twice for safety.
His throat bobbed. That tiny swallow should have warned me.
If he was nervous, it meant whatever he planned wasn’t going the way he expected.
“Tessa,” he said gently. “Just let me—”
He pulled his hand free, and the box caught the porch light.
Small, dark, and velvet, the type used in commercials where beautiful couples made perfect life decisions.
My stomach lurched. He cradled it in his palm like it was delicate instead of life-altering.
Sweat ran down my spine as a shiver ran up.
“Colin,” I said. “Put it away.”
His expression tightened, though he tried for a smile that never reached his eyes. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Difficult.” The word slid from him with a thin seam of irritation beneath the practiced softness. “You’re always difficult.”
A car drove past the front of the house, headlights sweeping across the fence. Someone inside laughed. Life went on while the moment out on this patio turned into something sharp and wrong.
“You have to see the ring,” he said, not reading the moment between us. The hinge squeaked softly. The ring inside glinted with cold, confident brightness, the diamond catching even the weak porch light. Of course, it was expensive. His family wouldn’t allow anything less.
“Tessa,” he said softly. “I love you. Even if you don’t come from the right side of the tracks or have an illustrious career, which won’t matter when we’re married anyway. You’re it for me.”
Everything inside me recoiled. He didn’t love me; he loved the image, the narrative, the way I looked sitting beside him at dinners.
Over the years, he made no qualms about making sure people knew he’d been the one to sophisticate me.
I could perform well enough in situations where his parents were pleased and overlooked my ranch upbringing, but it was made well known that I wasn’t good enough.
“Say something,” he said. “You’re freaking me out.”
“You should put that away,” I told him.
His brows snapped together. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking,” I said as I shook my head, and the silence stretched, sticky and hot.
“You’re serious,” he said slowly. “You’re actually serious.”
“Yes.”
He blinked as if trying to force the world back into the shape he preferred. “We’ve been together for years,” he said. “This is what people do. You have a stable job. I’m moving up at the firm. My parents adore you; you belong here. This is the next step.”
“Off and on for years,” I said. “Mostly off. Your parents barely tolerate me, and we both know I don’t belong here; this isn’t the life I want.”
He flinched. The word landed like a slap. “But it was real,” he insisted. “We’ve put in the time. We’ve built something. You’re part of this family.” From inside the house, his mother’s laugh floated out, polished and fake.
“It wasn’t what you think it was,” I said.
He never knew about the mumbled comments at parties or the meetings I had with his mother, that she pretended were just a girl’s lunch.
In reality, they were subtle threats about behaviour over a too-expensive salad with water chestnuts.
All the moments I hadn’t been enough flashed through my head.
“I’m not marrying you, Colin.”
For a moment, wounded shock flickered across his face. It looked almost genuine, but only almost. Then it vanished beneath something colder as he slid his mask back into place.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“I do,” I whispered.
He shook his head in tight, jerky movements. “No. You’re tired. You’re overworked. You’re stressed about money. Your judgement is—”
“My judgment is fine.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. How much have you had to drink tonight?” The words were snapped out. Always a projection because when Colin was drinking, I didn’t. He wasn’t predictable, and one of us needed to be fully capable of functioning.
“I haven’t had anything to drink, and I do mean this, Colin.” I looked down at the ground and hoped this would be enough for him to leave me alone on the porch.
He stepped toward me, each stride slow and deliberate, like he expected proximity to change my answer. The porch light cast shallow shadows across his face. Sweat glistened above his lip.
“I’ve been here. I’ve been patient and given you space when you asked for it. I’ve put up with your crazy schedule and your late shifts. Do you know what it does to a man when you aren’t there for his needs?” His voice rose, and he tamped it back down.
Oh, I knew, I knew full well what it did for him. He’d cheat, we’d break up, and he’d always come crawling back, and like an idiot, I let him back in.
“I never asked you to do any of that. Especially the cheating,” I added quickly.
His jaw twitched. “You owe me,” he growled.
“I don’t owe you anything.” The silence that followed hit like a lid slamming shut. Something cracked across his expression. A subtle fracture, but enough to let something hard leak through.
“You’re being irrational. You always do this when you’re overwhelmed. You push people away and shut down. I know you’ll regret this, Tessa.”
“No,” I said quietly. “I won’t.”
He stepped closer again, closing the last inches between us until his breath brushed my cheek. He smelled like aftershave and wine and something stale beneath both. His free hand lifted, hovering near my shoulder, fingers flexing.
“I’ve been the one who shows up,” he said firmly. “Not your cowboy fantasies. Not whatever daydreams you chase. Me. I’m the one who gives you stability.”
“I don’t have any fantasies, Colin. I do know that I deserve better than what’s in front of me.”
His hand curled into a fist and dropped.
“We’re good together. Everyone says so. My colleagues like you. You fit.”
I thought of every dinner where I swallowed discomfort and let myself fade into the wallpaper because it was easier than explaining why a comment stung. I thought of every time he said, Don’t make a thing of it.
“Everything is ready. I’m ready. You just need to say yes.”
“I’m saying no.”
His eyes hardened. The ring box snapped shut with a sharp click. He slid it back into his pocket with careful precision, not like a man defeated but rather a man recalculating.
“This isn’t the smart choice,” he said calmly. “You won’t find better than me.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Turning, I wanted to run, but my purse was inside the house.
I needed to get it, then I’d get far away from this place.
His hand shot out. He grabbed my arm just above the elbow, squeezing hard enough to send pain up my shoulder.
He yanked me closer, his breath hot on my cheek.
“Don’t walk away from me.” Resentment burned in his eyes. Entitlement. Not love. Never love.
“Let go of me,” I pleaded, but he didn’t. “I said let go.” This time, my voice came from somewhere deep, scraped raw with fury. He hesitated, then released me. I jerked back so fast the railing bit into my spine. His fingers left a burning touch on my skin.
“You’ll regret this,” he whispered. “You’ll see what you threw away.”
It wasn’t fear that settled in me. It was clarity. “I’m not the one who threw anything away. Your cheating, your demands, and now this,” I said as I lifted my arm, “you threw it away.”
Confusion flickered across his face, sharp and brief. “Where are you going?” he demanded.
“Away.” I opened the door and stepped back inside. The noise of the dinner party crashed over me, voices, clinking glasses, a burst of laughter. The air smelled like roasted meat, rosemary, and money.
His mother spotted me, her eyes twinned briefly, like she knew what happened, but she took a step back as I frowned when I saw her. “Everything okay, dear?”
“Fine.” I kept walking. The front door loomed ahead, and my purse sat on the table. My hand shook as I grabbed my bag and reached for the door. I didn’t stop. Not for her. And certainly not for him.
Outside, the city air slapped me with humidity and exhaust. The sky was a bruised gold, the last light clinging to the clouds.
Music thumped from an apartment window. A child laughed somewhere down the street.
An ordinary life, one that was normal and unremarkable. For a moment, it made my eyes sting.
My phone buzzed in my purse. Twice. Then again. I ignored it until I couldn’t, then pulled it out with unsteady fingers. Sixteen messages.
Colin: Tessa, come back.
Colin: You’re not thinking straight.
Colin: Don’t embarrass me.
Colin: We need to talk about this like adults.
Cold tightened low in my stomach. I clicked the screen off and kept walking.
The station wasn’t far. The streetlights flickered on as I reached the next block.
My phone buzzed again, insistently, but I didn’t look this time.
I already knew. Colin never apologized. He never explained, only twisted the narrative to fit what made him look good.
But tonight, I didn’t have to play his game.
The platform smelled like hot metal. A train screeched as it approached, headlights carving a bright path along the tracks. The doors opened with a sigh. I stepped inside, wrapped my fingers around the rail, and caught my reflection in the dark window.
Same hair. Same freckles. Same tired eyes. But the girl looking back at me wasn’t pretending to be lucky anymore. My phone buzzed again.
Colin: Tessa, don’t ignore me.
Colin: Bitch, this isn’t over.
I locked the screen, slid the phone back into my purse, and held on as the train lurched forward. I’d blown up my life with one word. I couldn’t tell the future, but I knew, with perfect certainty, that it wasn’t with him.